Captive
by PuzzlePrince
Summary: Dan takes over present time Amity Park and keeps its 'beloved' mayor alive to act as a figurehead.
1. Dearest Father

**A/N:** So all stories are Bitterly Broken and take place in current-time Amity Park, which Dan has taken over. However, this isn't a chapter-by-chapter story, it's a series of drabbles. You won't be able to go chapter to chapter with the expectation the next chapter will continue where the last chapter ended. All that aside, enjoy!

* * *

As was typical of all rooms, Vlad's had four walls and a window. But the window, as well as the walls, were wholly impenetrable; nothing could get in or out unless Dan Phantom permitted it. The inability to leave aside, it didn't resemble an actual prison in the slightest. It resembled a five star suite. The mini-fridge, king-sized bed, kitchen, bathroom with hot tub, and small office set-up were the envy of all other residents of Amity Park. Those oblivious to the activity inside its walls, anyway.

It was rare that Dan didn't find Vlad perched on the edge of his office chair, busily developing weaponry to repel or kill his warden. Today, he looked to the desk, and Vlad was nowhere to be seen.

He wandered a little further into the room, looking from corner to corner for its sole occupant, and struck gold when the almost inaudible hiss of splitting air emerged from behind him. He turned intangible just in time to avoid an axe to the shoulder. It instead landed on the slated floor, embedded deep into the wood. He heard Vlad grunting as he attempted to yank his weapon free to no avail.

Dan slowly turned and arched an eyebrow at his struggling assailant, completely at ease. "A little primitive, don't you think?"

Surrendering the axe, Vlad dove into his blazer pockets. "A to C, I have more steps." He didn't get far into raising a crude homemade gun as Dan turned and grabbed his wrist, jerking it forward until the gun fell loose. Dan tilted his head as it clattered to the ground, visibly intrigued.

"Doubt that would have worked, but well done on the progress."

Vlad grimaced and attempted to twist away. "Your compliment would be appreciated under different circumstances." At failing to pull himself free, he reached for his other pocket. "Not in the mood for changing those circumstances?"

Dan intercepted the grabbing hand, pulling it up against the other one so he could pin both in mid-air. "No." Vlad let out a yelp of indignation as Dan swung him around to give him a shove him in the direction of the bed. A few stumbling feet, and the backs of Vlad's knees hit the edge of the mattress, propelling him over the edge. He landed on his back despite his desperate flailing for an alternate surface.

"How about chess? Not in the mood for chess? No interviews for me to attend?" Vlad asked as he sent a side-long glance towards the chess table. They often had a game there when Dan was willing and able to spare time for leisure.

Clearly he wasn't willing and able today, as Dan didn't spare it a glance, crawling over Vlad until he was hovering above his torso.

"Not today, father," Dan replied, reveling in the grimace the nickname elicited. He leaned down, close to Vlad's neck, and his serpentine tongue snaked out to slide over a protruding tendon. "We haven't done this for a few days."

"Those were a nice few days." Vlad's breath quickened at the ministrations, near labored.

Dan chuckled. "I thought you wouldn't be this sensitive after a month." He buried his nose close to Vlad's collarbones, scraping his teeth over the skin. It broke and spilled a small amount of blood, but Dan - undeterred - continued down to the dip beneath Vlad's ribs, popping buttons as he progressed.

Vlad grappled for Dan's hands, failed, and pressed at his shoulders instead, clawing into the skin. Unconcerned, Dan slid his fingers past Vlad's torso, towards his navel, grinning at Vlad's ineffective struggling.

"You know I like this part." Dan lightly scratched at Vlad's hip, pushing his jacket and shirt aside with a palm.

"So you say—" Vlad inhaled sharply as Dan delved past the waistband of his pants. "Nearly every time we do this."

All too gently, Dan grabbed and pressed Vlad's wrists into the mattress with his free hand to still him. "'We'. It's a little more one-sided than that, isn't it?"

Clenching his jaw, Vlad said nothing.

Dan moved back up his body to murmur into his ear, smiling against the shell. "It's alright, father. You'll escape eventually." He nipped at the lobe, drawing a shudder. "Of course you'll escape eventually, or you wouldn't be trying. I know what your philosophy is." A strangled moan escaped as he grasped Vlad's cock, stroking. "I know you wouldn't try if you didn't think you had a chance."

"And you're planning on smothering that, I suppose?" Vlad grasped for the words, barely managing to verbalize them. His eyes fluttered shut and Dan slid up to kiss his jaw.

He stroked him slowly, languidly, causing Vlad to shudder and arch off the bed, and then smothered another moan with a kiss, murmuring into his mouth, "What would be the fun in that?"


	2. Private Show

It had once been a seedy, suspicious establishment. It was still seedy and suspicious, but no longer an establishment; now it was one of the many buildings Dan Phantom had claimed as part of his private land. Glasses from abruptly evicted patrons were still present on the bar, on the tables, collecting dust and growing fungus. The surrounding raised platforms were similarly neglected, with only one remaining clean for private use. It was immaculate, not a speck of filth to be found on its surface. It had been cleaned again, and again, until it had been able to reflect Dan's visage. Only once he was able to make out the flickering of his red eyes in the marble had he finally decided to put it to its intended use.

The lack of warmth in the building from months of stagnation soon evaporated under the pink glow of a heat lamp. However, long before that had been turned on, Vlad had been attached to the pole, so it was no surprise that he found the man shivering and leaning into the light and away from the dance pole when he finally entered the scene. At seeing Dan, the man shuffled to the far side of the circular stage, the metal links of his bindings clinking with his feeble attempt to put some berth between them. Dan chuckled, but made no move to follow him, seating himself in the sole chair surrounding the stage; it was lush and out of place in their otherwise plain surroundings, its backrest twice the size of any other in the building. He'd had it brought in just for these private little events.

On the stage, a lingerie-clad Vlad regarded his audience with a wary grimace, sliding his hands down the pole as far as they would go to provide himself some dignity.

"Really, Dan," he scowled, though his voice trembled with notes of humiliation. "You've unveiled a new low."

Dan leaned his chin on a hand, simply watching him. "For you, yes." His eyes noticeably drifted down to watch the black fabric of Vlad's stockings and panties stretch taut over his pale skin as he moved. Vlad flushed dark when he followed the direction of Dan's eyes, turning his face away with gritted teeth.

"It might be an idea to find someone who you're actually capable of intimidating into your lecherous whims." His feet shuffled again, toes briefly impacting with the pole. "This is going to a very dull show, otherwise."

"I'm sure I can make it interesting," Dan said as he leaned forward in his seat, towards the stage. His palms slid onto it, towards Vlad's legs, who darted as far away as the handcuffs allowed. Dan immediately stilled and curled his fingers into his palms. "I could call some civilians in to assist me. Have them pull you around the stage like a puppet for my amusement."

Vlad's expression betrayed him — as it always did — with mild panic. "I wasn't aware you were capable of sharing," he replied, almost stuttering.

Dan raised his hands expectantly. "You'll either provide entertainment, or I'll bring in an audience to force you. Your choice."

It was a fight for Vlad to finally come to his answer. He was quiet for several long minutes, during which Dan said nothing, patiently awaiting Vlad's response. When he began to sway from side to side on the pole, Dan smiled and reached for him a second time. There was little resistance as he ran his palms over Vlad's shivering calves and squeezed the muscle, reaching up until he was able to hook his fingers beneath the thigh-highs and play with the hems.

"Good," he praised with blatant condescension. Vlad set his jaw and stared determinedly into the distance. "Now, bend."

Vlad inhaled sharply. "What?"

"It was a simple enough request." Dan began to lean away, but paused before he could reach his chair. "Ah, wait. You need some motivation."

Perplexed, Vlad turned a puzzled frown on Dan just as the creature leaned back up to slide a dollar bill into the panty strap across his hip. He jerked away from the touch, and would have succeeded in putting some distance between them had Dan not stilled him with a free hand. Though Dan had spent a considerable amount of time humiliating him since his capture, he still snarled in utter indignation at the feel of it scratching against his hip. He would have removed it, wadded it up, and thrown it back at Dan, but he knew better than to test Dan's patience after the threat of outside participation. There was only so much battering his ego could take.

It took biting his tongue to restrain a complaint as he slowly bent himself at the waist, head pressed to the side of the pole to provide leverage. Dan's hands returned to his calves, sliding up over his thighs, his buttocks, sliding around to his navel. Vlad grip on the pole stuttered at the touch, sliding him towards the floor. He continued to tremble even as he dragged himself back up to stability.

"If you say please, if you ask me for this," Dan began, stepping out of his chair and onto the stage behind him, costumed waist against Vlad's ass. "I won't expect anything from you tonight or tomorrow."

Vlad was quiet, considering. Dan impatiently pressed additional dollar bills into his panties. "Make your choice, Vlad."

His knees knocked despite the warmth, his face a deep red. Both from the position, and the degradation of it.

"…Please," he said, finally, and Dan leaned over his back with promise.


	3. Stockholm Syndrome

It was his birthday, and it was funny how Dan had been the one to remember that. In fact, he was the only person in over twenty years to provide him with a gift. Not one he was especially appreciative of, as it catered to Dan's needs more than his own, but it was the thought that mattered, right?

It seemed the days Dan had needed to shatter his femur bones to prevent escape were long gone. He almost couldn't remember the last time Dan had set a hand on him with the intention to harm. He'd tried to fight every day, once upon a time, when he'd been in denial about being a coward, when preserving the hope Daniel had left behind had been more important than his well-being. There was only so much suffering a single man could tolerate before their resolve disintegrated, though, and Dan had persisted until he'd knelt before him willingly.

In the beginning of his imprisonment, he'd wondered if strong, stubborn, perfect Daniel would have ever reached a breaking point. He'd wondered less as the days had moved into months, and then he'd stopped wondering altogether after a year. He hadn't thought about Maddie for even longer than that.

"Happy birthday, cheese head," Dan purred against his neck, draped encompassingly over his lithe back. His clawed fingers slipped beneath the dark red collar adorning his neck, massaging the skin made sore by friction. Vlad hummed in appreciation.

"Are you sure this was a present for me?" He chuckled and flicked the collar with a thumb. "I appreciate it, regardless."

"You'll appreciate it more once you're able to see it." With that said, Dan heaved himself off Vlad's body and extended Vlad a hand, helping him up like one would royalty; being the last of their kind and the only one still able and willing to provide Dan with a challenge had made Dan increasingly caring, something Dan only seemed capable of while in the throes of obsession.

He was led up to a mirror and made to stand in front of it. Dan remained behind him with his hands on his shoulders, kneading away at the sore muscles.

It was odd to see himself as Dan had designed him. Hair down, messy, with some tumbling over his face in thin streams; the dark red collar with a little circular name tag; similarly red gloves that reached his upper arm, and stockings of the same length and colour reaching up to his thighs; and finally, the red underwear with a little black bow and suspenders to keep them attached to the stockings.

He could feel colour rising to his cheeks and quickly redirected his gaze to Dan, looking at him over his shoulder. A small, forced smile instinctively curved his lips. "It's a happy birthday to me indeed."


End file.
